


Tea and Comfort

by OhSoSheWrites



Series: Falling For the Skirt Chaser [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22412671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhSoSheWrites/pseuds/OhSoSheWrites
Summary: After Miklan’s death, Byleth brings Sylvain tea and then the situation kind of escalates.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth
Series: Falling For the Skirt Chaser [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612996
Comments: 4
Kudos: 97





	Tea and Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> I have become obsessed with Fire Emblem. I am loyal to the Golden Deer but I also really, really love Sylvain. This fic is odd because it is not what I set out to write. I had something completely different and then realized I needed a back story and that is what this is. The ending is also not what I expected, but Sylvain has a mind of his own.

Miklan was dead. 

Sylvain wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about that. His brother had been a bastard, his number one tormented, and in his final days had created a mess for Sylvain to clean up.

He was back at the academy after a quick visit home, bringing the news, and the Lance of Ruin, to his parents. They had been cold and stoic, glad that the problem was done and that just made him angrier and more conflicted. How easily they were about to write Miklan off.

As if he wasn’t a member of the family. As if their actions hadn’t caused this. 

A part of Sylvain hated them for it and then another part wanted to follow their example and have it be that easy. Because Miklan had given him no reason to mourn. And yet... He was still his brother. There was a time when Sylvain had worshipped Miklan, had wanted his brother’s approval and love more than anything in the world, before he had come to understand that would never happen, that Miklan would always him for something he had no control over.

And now Miklan was dead. By Sylvain’s hand. And he _really_ didn’t know how to feel about that.

The Professor... Byleth... She would have made the final blow, he knew that, but he had seen it as his responsibility and she had let him, seeming to understand that he needed it.

It was funny, if he hadn’t transferred to the Golden Deer, he wouldn’t have even been there and yet, he was glad he was. His decision to transfer houses might have not been made for the purest of reasons, but it had been the right one. He knew if the professor had taken on Miklan without him, he would have regretted it. Miklan was his brother, his burden, and he had needed to be there at the end. 

“Sylvain?” A soft voice called, startling him out of his thoughts.

Sylvain hopped off his bed and raked a hand through his hair and then opened the door, unsurprised to see Byleth there, after all he supposed it **was** her job to check on him, but surprised to see the tray of tea and cookies in her hands.

“I thought you could use a pick me up,” she offered, “I can leave this here if you like...”

“No!” Sylvain told her, “I mean, come in, please.”

He had shrugged off Ingrid and Dimitri’s attempts to comfort him and Felix’s gruff invitations to train, knowing they meant well, but not wanting their sympathy. Or even sure he needed it, after all there had been no love lost between him and Miklan. But coming from Byleth, it felt different.

She set the tray on the bedside table as Sylvain closed the door behind her. 

“I am not very good at this,” she began, pouring them both a cup of tea. Bergamot, his favorite.

“Pouring tea?” He teased, “you seem pretty good at it to me.”

He took the seat next to her on the bed, trying not to think about how cozy it was or how often he had imagined having here in there. She was just doing her job after all and he had to remember that.

She shot him a look, “you know that isn’t what I mean. This. Comforting... I have never done it before.”

There was a note of embarrassment in her voice, at odds with the confidence he had come to expect from her and once again, Sylvain found himself curious about her backstory. He had heard the rumours, her nickname as Ashen Demon, the comments from his fellow students about how she never even smiled and it just made him even more curious about her. She was easily the most fascinating woman he had ever met.

“The tea is enough,” he assured her, picking up his cup, “besides it’s not like Miklan and I were close. I am not exactly sobbing into my pillow because he is dead.”

Byleth was quiet, just watching him, waiting for more.

“You want to know something awful?” Sylvain asked after a moment. “I am relieved he is dead. Because now it is over and I know he will never hurt anyone again. What kind of monster does that make me?” 

Byleth reached over and placed her hand on his. Her touch was gentle, her skin incredibly soft. “Not a monster,” she told him, “a good person, one who cares.”

Her words humbled him, but his defence mechanism kicked in. “I think you have the wrong guy, Professor, I am a good for nothing skirt chaser who has never had a serious thought in his life, didn’t you know?” 

“Are you?” Byleth murmured, looking at him with those big blue eyes, so still and yet so unnerving, “I wonder...”

She was so close, her hand still on his, and every instinct in Sylvain told him to act on this moment. Besides, it would show her exactly who he was, right, and then she could stop looking at him like that... so he gave into his instinct and pulled her closer.

“If you are curious Professor, I am happy to give you a demonstration,” he told her before lowering his mouth to her.

Her lips were so soft and what had started as a way to prove a point, quickly turned into something more and he deepened the kiss. To his surprise, she kissed him back, burying her hands in his hair.

Sylvain took that as an invitation to continue, his tongue parting her lips, his hands running along her luscious curves, lingering on her breasts and thinking of all the times he had stared at them in class, wondering what it would be like to run his hands over them. And now he knew.

It felt fucking fantastic. 

He pushed her down on the bed, leaning over her, his hands sliding up under her top, caressing her through the bindings that contained those luscious breasts. She let out a little moan and then, suddenly, she tore her mouth away, giving him a little shove, dislodging his hands. 

“We can’t,” she gasped.

“Why not?” He asked, resting his hands on either side of her, holding himself just above her, “Isn’t that why you came here? To make me feel better?”

She glared at him, “not like that.” She wiggled away from under him, taking a deep breath, obviously trying to pull herself together. It was the most flustered and emotive Sylvain had ever seen her and if he wasn’t so hot and bothered, he would probably take pride in the fact that he was the reason.

“I’m your _teacher_ ,” she reminded him.

“We’re the same age,” Sylvain pointed out, “I think I might even be older than you.” It was one of the many mysteries of the professor, that she didn’t know her own age. 

“That’s not the point,” Byleth told him, “you are my student and I came here to check on you, not...”

“Not end up one of my many conquests?” Sylvain said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Yes, no,” Byleth told him, shaking her head, “maybe I should go.”

That was probably for the best, Sylvain agreed, since his body was still on fire from the feeling of having her underneath him, her lips on his. The smart thing would be for him to let her leave and then go find a willing woman to lose himself in.

But, he wasn’t known for doing the smart thing, and that was why he found himself reaching for Byleth’s hand, “please don’t go.”

She hesitated and then nodded. “Are you sure?”

Sure that he could sit and drink tea with a woman that had starred in his fantasies since the moment he had met her? Who was one of the few women to look at him like a real person and not a ticket to the noble life? And pretend that she was nothing more than his teacher?

“Yes,” he lied, reaching for a cup and handing it to her. “I enjoy your company.”

“I enjoy yours too,” she assured him and he hoped she meant it, even if she didn’t mean it the way he wanted her too.

They made idle conversation as they finished the tea, talking about everything except Miklan and what had just happened between them and far too soon, Byleth rose to leave. “I should go,” she told him, “I am sure there will be talk if I stay much longer.”

Probably, Sylvain agreed silently, because of his reputation, if nothing else. Though, Dimitri wasn’t one to spread rumours and also considered the professor above reproach, so they were probably safe.

“Thank you,” he told her, standing as well, “for checking on me. I really appreciate it.”

She nodded. “Of course, it was my pleasure.” 

She turned to go.

“Byleth?”

She turned back to him, seeming undisturbed by his use of her first name. “Yes?”

“You aren’t going to be my professor forever,” he told her, “and when you aren’t... I am gong to do my best to get you back in my bed, I just wanted to let you know.”

There was a moment of silence, her face it’s usual mask and then a hint of something, was it a smile?, crossed her face. “We’ll see. Though I am glad to see you are back to your normal self. I expect to see you in class tomorrow.”

And like that she was gone. Sylvain settled back on the bed, his hand going to his belt as he remembered the feeling of having Byleth on the bed with him, her lips on his, her hands in her hair, her warm body under his... He groaned, knowing that image would haunt him for a long time, but it was worth it, definitely worth it.

She might have come here to comfort him, but what had happened between them hadn’t been about that, he knew it. She had been caught off guard, but in that moment she had been as into it as he was, and he had caught a glimpse of who she was beneath that mask of stoicism and he wanted more. 

And he specifically wanted _her._   
  
Not just because she was beautiful, there were lots of beautiful women, but because she was unique. Special. 

And that was why he was laying in bed, his hand in his pants, an image of her in his head, instead of going out and having his way with some willing woman. Because he knew right now no other woman would do and that was something new... There had never been a woman who couldn’t be replaced with another before and it should scare him, but it didn’t.

It just made him want her more. And as he worked his stiff cock in his hands, her face in his mind, remembering the sound of her breathy moan and the taste of her lips, he vowed that he was going to win her.

Next time he had her in this bed, she wasn’t going to want to leave and until then... Well, at least he had fodder for his fantasies. 

  * End 





End file.
